Sunday, January 13, 2019

100 Words a Day 1269

The road wound through the mountain like a ribbon, following the landscape’s natural curves and revealing massive, tranquil beauty around every bend. Trees encroached on one side, making a fiery half-arch with their fall colors. The cracked windows brought us those smells so unfamiliar to the city: fresh air, trees, and the occasional whiff of horse. It was as though other people were absent from the world.

John Denver faded; I turned to my wife; she rolled her eyes. The song was already playing again, and we launched into the eerie single-voice harmony that only married couples seem to achieve.

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